


Being Red

by mmmdraco



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/mmmdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wish I could respect my father, but he's really an ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Red

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Daria. I mean no harm. I am merely engaging in shenanigans.
> 
> Can function as a prequel to [Seeing Red](http://archiveofourown.org/works/463168).

"How was school today, Chuckie?"

I stand tall and answered my father politely, "It was great, Dad. I got back my report on Japanese zaibatsu and I got an A."

Dad scowls at me, like he always does. "This Japanese crap again? Why couldn't you cover something American like a normal kid?"

I can feel my shoulders trembling already. Damn! "We were supposed to report on another country's economy."

"Damn Asians. They keep undercutting my bids! No one in America can afford to work for the pittance they do." There he goes with the cigar again. "You and those freaks you hang out with sometimes are partially to blame for this, you know." Snip the tip off of the cigar, pull out a lighter, set a flame to the end and pull a breath through it. Then that lovely acrid honey-scented smoke fills the air and makes my eyes water as he continues whatever tirade he's on about now. "If Americans would be content to buy from Americans, this country might not be going down the shitter."

I want to speak up and remind him that his company would be long gone if he hadn't outsourced so much of his company's manufacturing to Mexico. But that would be talking back, and I didn't need to try to hold ice to a fat lip while doing my homework. Inevitably, the drips would end up on my homework for Ms. Barch and the C- I could sometimes manage in her class would be downgraded to an F with no further glances. I want to hate her for how she treats every guy around her, but she doesn't really act that different from my mother. If Mr. Barch was a man like my father in any regard, I can understand her hate of the male portion of our species. I'm not that keen on it either.

"Chuckie?" I blink hard and focus my attention back on my father, willing my eyes to stop watering. 

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell the maid to bring up some of those cookies she knows I like, okay? And tell her to wear the apron I got for her." 

Bile rises in my throat at the thought of it. I wonder again if my father has always been this lecherous, or if it has been a gradual change that happened while my mom was pregnant. A whole 9 months of no sex, and then your kid is born a redhead. You get a DNA test to prove he's yours because you've got black hair and your wife's a brunette. But it's proven. I'm a Ruttheimer. And I'd give a hell of a lot to change that.

I leave the room before Dad can say anything else and make my way down to the kitchen. Minka, our busty Russian maid, is watching a soap opera on a small TV as she peels potatoes. I clear my throat and try not to stare too much at her cleavage as she turns to me, but if I look at her face, I'll be reminded of the fact that she's only a few years older than I am. "Dad wants some cookies, and for you to wear that apron." I end up looking at her ear.

Minka gets an odd look on her face for a moment, then thanks me and picks up her bowl of peeled potatoes and sets them by a large pot on the stove. She has to stand on her tip-toes to get to the plate she seems to be looking for, and her skirt is high enough that I see more thigh than I really feel comfortable with. I avert my eyes and make my way back upstairs to my bedroom. 

Once inside, I have things to do. I turn on my computer and get things ready while it loads. From my backpack, I pull out an envelope of pictures I just picked up from the local drug store, a pencil, my trigonometry and chemistry textbooks, a notebook, and a package of wasabi gummy fish. The computer's booted up, so I start scanning the first picture from the envelope. While it scans and processes, I work on the first problems from tonight's math homework. It's all coterminal and reference angles, so I manage three problems while the picture scans. I finish math just before loading the last picture, so I take the time to put away my math things and get out my chemistry book, a laminated periodic table, and a different notebook so I can start balancing chemical equations. I take a moment to stretch before turning back to the computer as I hear the scanner start to shut down. I double-click the icon to connect to the Internet and wince at the loud screech of my modem before finally getting a connection. 

Once connected, I log into my FTP software and start uploading the batch of pictures I'd just scanned in. Someday they'd make this easier and faster, but until then it was slow going to update the fast food premiums section of my website. While uploading, I use my word processor program to edit the various web pages I'll need to upload after the pictures finish. They were taking quite a while, so I take the time to work on the page I'd soon use to sell wasabi gummy fish. They weren't for everyone, sure, but after trying them once from a foreign exchange student in middle school, I couldn't get enough. I'd been unable to find them anywhere online, so I asked Dad's former secretary to help me contact the Japanese manufacturer and get a whole case. I'm still waiting on it to arrive, but then other people will be able to find this candy. My dad wasn't too sure about it at first, but I think he was glad to see me at least a little interested in business.

Bored of creating tables, I go back to my chemistry homework. Another handful of chemical reactions, a written analysis of endo- and exothermic reactions, a few diagrams of valence electrons and I'm done. There was reading I was supposed to do, too, but what's the point when it was all going to be covered in class the next day? Ms. Barch wasn't going to suddenly change her mind about men, so I was destined for mediocrity in her class. I've accepted that now.

Someone's talking out in the hall. It's probably Minka threatening to quit again, and dad threatening to turn her in to immigration if she does. I wish I could respect my father, but he's really an ass. 

The worst part is that he's trying to get me to be like him. If he's not after me about business, it's about how I look, or about women... and usually some combination of the three. Hell, I started up the Lawndale Swingers Club just so he'd get off my back a little. I flirt at school, but I try not to go after anyone who might say yes. There's time for girlfriends when I'm in college and don't live at home.

Daria's a little special, though. She's the smartest girl in school, except for maybe Jodie Landon. But Jodie's popular and dating the captain of the football team, though she is really pretty. Daria... As much as I'd like to think that it could somehow work, I know it wouldn't. What would she want with a skinny red-haired geek when any guy who bothered to actually give her a real look would instantly fall for her? Plus, she hates redheads. But I guess I can understand that since her sister has red hair. Quinn's attractive, too, but I'm pretty sure that a stiff breeze can blow in one of her ears and out the other with no problems.

Back to what's in front of me, the pictures have finally finished uploading. I take a moment to upload the HTML files I'd saved and then close down the FTP program. I set the computer to shut down and try to find something to do. I wish I could just make some real friends at school, but all they care about is looks and popularity. I want to just shave my head, but then they could all see that scar on my scalp from where Dad got angry that I knocked over the mailbox with the car and... I don't want to explain that to them. Sure, I could make something up that sounded really cool, but who's going to believe that a guy who weighs 100 pounds sopping wet can wrestle a mountain lion?

I'll get through dinner. And then I'll drive around somewhere. Someone will be having a party and I can go crash it. After all, my dad did teach me one thing that's helped me get through life: if you act like you're supposed to be there, no one who matters will question it. It worked when I wasn't where I was supposed to be at school, and it worked at a party. Everyone always assumes I'm a pity invite. But I still get to be around people, even if I almost always get the brush off. But it isn't always that bad. I've been the DJ or the announcer for a lot of things. I'm kind of good at it. I get invited to a lot of things for that, at least, so I know that there's at least something about me that's worthwhile.

I hear Dad out in the hall again. He'll be knocking on the door in a second, letting me know that Minka's a conniving slut just like my mother... and that dinner's ready. I wonder how much more Minka can take before she poisons his food. 

I wonder if anyone would notice if she poisoned mine, too.


End file.
